


Sunday Morning - Ian & Mickey

by floralsuitian



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, M/M, Sexual Content, The Honeymoon they deserve, Vacation, Walks On The Beach, domestic husbands, heavy smut, post s10, soft scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24783571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralsuitian/pseuds/floralsuitian
Summary: ~In which Ian and Mickey finally get to enjoy the honeymoon they deserve~- Title of fic from the song of the same name, 'Sunday Morning' by Maroon 5 -
Relationships: Gallavich - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 135





	Sunday Morning - Ian & Mickey

Lips. The gentle touch of fingers along his hip. Lips again. Pressing gently into the space between his shoulder blades. His toes running up and down the skin of his calf underneath the thin sheet, draped over both their naked bodies. Mickey smiles; his eyes are still closed but he lets Ian continue his gentle assault of dragging his fingers and toes and lips over his body. The room they’re staying in is nice, small and comfortable for the two of them. It’s nicer than the entirety of the Gallagher house. 

They didn’t really get to have a honeymoon at all, didn’t really get to explore the possibility of one with them being “criminals” and all. But it had been eight months since they had gotten married, and since neither of them had gotten into any trouble, had locked down stable jobs, and had been showing up for their weekly parole check ins, their officers told them it was okay. 

They didn’t leave the country, just the state. Ian wanted to get the fuck out of Chicago if they were gonna spend a real honeymoon somewhere. He surprised Mickey with a little week-long trip to Hawaii (he had to almost beg his PO to let them go, but she finally gave in), and Mickey was _not_ going to turn down a week away on the fucking beach with his fucking husband.

Today was their first day here, their first morning in a new place. Away from the hustle and bustle of the siren-filled streets, to the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore just two stories below their hotel room. And Ian was still pressing light, close-lipped kisses into his skin and Mickey could feel him against the curve of his ass and he thought it couldn’t get any better than this. 

He slowly turns over to face Ian, who’s been awake for some time now judging by how bright his eyes seem, and he smiles at Mickey. Mickey smiles back at him, bringing his left hand up to drag his thumb gently over Ian’s lower lip. Ian gently bites down on the pad, Mickey smiles again.

“Hi,” Ian whispers, his eyelids fluttering closed. Mickey dips his head, leans forward to capture Ian’s top lip between his. The kiss is soft, slow, nothing like their heavy make outs that they sometimes get carried away with. This one is easy, light, says “hi, I love you” without saying the words themselves. 

Mickey pulls back gently, a light hum leaving Ian’s lips as they rest their foreheads against one another. 

“Hey,” Mickey finally says, threading his fingers through Ian’s hair and dragging his blunt nails across the back of his neck. Ian rubs his thumb over Mickey’s shoulder, to his collarbone, his skin warm and soft under the pad of his thumb. 

“Sleep okay?”

“Like a fucking baby.”

Ian giggles at that, gently rolls to his back, tugs Mickey by the hip to rest on top of him. Mickey drags his fingers over Ian’s pec, across his nipples, to the light stubble littering his chin. Ian hums, shifts his hips (on fucking _purpose_ , Mickey thinks), lets his eyes fall closed as Mickey sits up to straddle his waist.

“Kind of need you right now,” Ian breathes, letting his hands drag up Mickey’s thighs slowly. Mickey glances down at his wedding band, and his heart flutters, even after all this time. 

“Yeah?”, Mickey teases, rolling his hips gently against Ian’s. He lets out a soft _unh_ that makes Mickey’s stomach flip and he groans, threading his fingers through Ian’s and rocking softly against his lap. 

_“Mickey,_ fuck,” Ian groaned, biting down on his bottom lip and thrusting gently upwards towards Mickey’s hips. 

“Don’t come,” Mickey whispers, more to himself than to Ian, but Ian nods, untangles his fingers from Mickey’s, reaches for the lube they brought with them in the nightstand. Ian is already panting, and he opens the bottle to squeeze the gel onto his fingers quickly, sitting up with Mickey still on his lap. Mickey quirks an eyebrow at Ian as he begins to reach around to Mickey’s entrance, but he doesn’t continue, just stares at him for a few seconds. 

“I love you,” Ian whispers, then smiles gently. Mickey cards his fingers through his hair then scratches at the nape of his neck again. 

“Love you too,” and he pulls Ian in for another soft kiss that turns into a breathy moan when Ian’s fingers brush against him. Mickey’s eyebrows scrunch together as he spreads his thighs a little more, making Ian make that little noise in the back of his throat that he made a few minutes ago. 

“Want you to come like this,” Ian breathes, pressing his fingers into Mickey again, “want you to come from my fingers.”

 _“Fuck,_ Ian,” Mickey whines, but fucks himself against Ian’s fingers, and Ian can feel how hard he is, how much he likes this. 

“Can you do that? Can you come like this?”

Mickey’s tongue is pressing into Ian’s mouth as he speaks, and it’s so hot, so raw, so fucking _them,_ that Ian feels like he won’t make it. 

“Come on, Mick, come for me. Just like this.”

 _“More,_ please. _Harder,”_ Mickey’s whining and moaning, and _fuck,_ he’s practically riding Ian’s fingers, and it feels so _good,_ and then Ian’s making those little fucking noises, and then Mickey’s coming so hard, that Ian gasps when he clenches around his fingers. His thighs tighten on Ian’s lap and his head falls back, his blunt nails digging into Ian’s shoulders. 

When Mickey finds himself again, he pushes Ian onto his back, crawling down his body, pulling the sheet off the bed. Mickey’s body is flushed and he’s slightly sweaty and Ian is on _fire_ from looking at him. Mickey bends Ian’s knees, lowering his head to nip at the skin of his thighs, and Ian just keeps looking at him, his hot as fuck husband who’s about to take the reins, and Ian is surprised he didn’t come undone just from getting Mickey off. 

“My turn,” Mickey smirks, nipping at Ian’s hipbone and his fingers gently card through Mickey’s hair as he tongues at Ian’s entrance. _Oh….oh fuuuuck….._

Ian’s legs instantly tense at the intrusion, definitely not used to it (Mickey didn’t pleasure Ian in this way very often, but when he did, _fuck,_ was he good at it), and Mickey tsks as he spreads Ian’s legs again.

“Nuh uh, keep them there,” Mickey commands, and Ian’s eyes go wide, then slowly roll back as Mickey gently mouths at him. Those noises, those fucking _unhs_ and _yeses_ falling from Ian’s mouth sound so good to Mickey; in his opinion, they’re dirty as hell but so sexy, and he wants to hear them for the rest of the fucking trip. 

“Mick, _unh….” (fuck,_ there it is again), Ian moans, his hips beginning to move against Mickey’s mouth as he mouths at him over and over again. 

“Come on, Gallagher,” Mickey groans against him, lifting his head for just a moment to see Ian’s flushed chest rising and falling, “want you to come.”

“Mickey, I….I’m so fucking _close, please.”_

Mickey feels like he can’t breathe, not just from mouthing at Ian’s ass, but also from _this_ in general. This life he gets to live with this man losing it beneath him, this man who loves him and cares for him, and vice versa. This man who smiles at him for no reason, who kisses him when he leaves for work and when he comes home, and then for no reason at all. This man who knows exactly how to make him come undone, who knows all his favorite places to be touched. This man who takes him on fucking week-long trips to fucking Hawaii and makes love to him in hotel rooms. Because they _can._ When they never could before. 

And when Ian’s coming, his hips raising gently against Mickey’s mouth, he wishes to never live this life with anyone else. There is no one he’d rather see look this fucking _heavenly_ after sex. Or even during. _God,_ he looks so good. 

“Jesus Christ, Mick,” Ian chuckles, trying to catch his breath while Mickey grabs a damp washcloth from the bathroom to clean them both up. 

“Jesus Christ, yourself,” Mickey drags the cloth between Ian’s legs gently and across his stomach; Ian drags his fingers along Mickey’s calf and up the back of his thigh when he stands from the bed to clean himself off as well. 

“Will you stop it?”, Mickey grins but swats at Ian’s hand before going to throw the washcloth in the hamper.

“I don’t think the cleaning ladies are going to like us very much,” Ian comments, lying on his back with one hand on his chest and the other hanging off the bed. Mickey shrugs, picks up the sheet from the floor before tossing that into the hamper as well. 

“I’m guessing this is not the first time they’ve encountered come-stained sheets in the hotel rooms, I think they’ll be okay,” Mickey crawls back onto the bed, lying on his stomach, his chin resting on one hand while he drags the other one over Ian’s pale, freckled hip. 

“Think we woke up the neighbors?”, Ian hums, mirroring Mickey’s action with his own hand. 

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” and Ian smiles wide at that. Mickey smiles back at him, looks at him the way he always does. With _that_ look.

“I fucking love you,” Ian whispers, and _god,_ he wants him again. But all of him this time.

“Love you, so fuckin’ much.” And they stare at each other, lying in separate directions, their fingers gently exploring each others’ bodies like it’s the first time all over again. 

“Wanna fuck in a different state?”, Ian blurts, smirking.

Mickey laughs, strokes his thumb over Ian’s hip gently. “What the hell were we doing 20 minutes ago?”

“That doesn’t count,” Ian starts to sit up, “plus it’s only”- he glances at the clock on the nightstand - “eight-thirty.”

“Oh, goody,” Mickey playfully rolls his eyes, lets Ian roll him to his back against the soft material of the bedsheets, and Mickey glances over to the window. The curtains aren’t completely closed, letting a good amount of light in, and Ian looks at him confusedly. 

“What’s up?”

“Just….thinking is all.” Mickey reaches his hand up to card his fingers through Ian’s hair again. 

“Uh oh, about what?”, Ian’s lips turn up into a small smile. 

“We finally got to go to the beach together,” Mickey whispers. And _fuck,_ Ian breathes in a shaky breath, then smiles down at this man that he loves more than anything.

“Yeah….we did, huh?” Mickey kisses Ian’s arm that’s next to his head, looking up at his husband. Just _looking_ and taking him all in for the millionth and time. 

“Make love to me”, Mickey whispers, the only sounds in the room being their breathing and the faint crash of waves outside.

“Mhm,” Ian hums, leans down to kiss Mickey softly, his tongue barely entering his mouth as he does, pets his fingers through Mickey’s hair, then slides his hand along his waist to his hip, his thigh. Ian presses into Mickey slowly and gently, feels his legs spreading more and his eyes are fluttering closed and he’s biting down on his lip like he always does, and _fuck,_ he’s making little noises like he does and gripping Ian’s bicep and his mouth falls open slowly and Ian leans down, nips at the skin of his throat, feels the vibration of a gentle chuckle against his lips when he does.

“Think we should fuck on the beach while we’re here,” Ian breathes, rolling his hips gently into Mickey’s. He groans again, brings his legs up to wrap around Ian’s waist.

“Too many….people, _mmm….”_

“They can…. _fuck,_ watch,” Ian hums, pressing his forehead to Mickey’s, pressing slowly in and out of his husband. 

“Not fucking happening, you ass,” Mickey chuckles, but it turns into a moan when Ian snaps his hips gently. 

“Not even in the pool?”

Mickey grips Ian’s hip to stop him, glares up at him, out of breath, and Ian smirks down at him. 

“I’m kidding, relax,” and he moves again, watching as Mickey’s eyes flutter closed again. Ian begins to pick up the pace when he feels Mickey’s feet pressing into his lower back; it’s still gentle, soft, _them,_ and Ian presses a kiss to the corner of Mickey’s lips, his jaw, the space between his jaw and collarbone, moaning that little noise that makes Mickey’s stomach turn inside out. 

“You’re still an ass,” Mickey breathes, gently tugging at the ends of Ian’s hair. Ian’s panting against his throat, Mickey’s breathing hotly in his ear, and they’re both so close. Ian can feel it in the pit of his stomach and in the way Mickey’s thighs are tensing.

“An ass who’s about to make you come again.”

“Make me come, Ian,” Mickey moans into his ear, and Ian gasps softly at his words, “ _fuck,_ make me come.”

“Come on, Mick, do it again for me.”

Mickey’s breathing hard, gripping Ian’s shoulders as Ian fucks him slow, soft, gentle. There’s no rush in his movements, just gentle strokes of his length inside him, and Mickey’s so fucking close, it _hurts._

“Gonna fucking _come,_ god, right there, _yes,_ right _there….”_

“You feel so good, so fucking _good,_ yes….”

Mickey’s chanting _don’t stop, don’t stop_ in Ian’s ear, Ian’s making those little noises, telling Mickey how good he is, until it’s too much. Ian comes seconds before Mickey does, bringing Ian’s lips to his, pressing their open mouths together, their tongues brushing softly, and Ian breathes out a final _“unh”,_ that makes Mickey groan again. Ian falls against his chest, Mickey’s fingers drag through his damp hair gently. Then Ian starts chuckling, and Mickey nudges at him. 

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

“You actually think I wanna fuck you on the beach?”, Ian begins to sit up to pull himself out and off of Mickey, lying next to him on the bed again. 

“Wouldn’t put it past ya,” Mickey smirks, turning his body to face Ian.

“Rather fuck my husband where we don’t have _any_ interruptions, so no, we’re staying in this hotel room and I’m gonna make love to you on all the surfaces in here by the time we leave,” Ian winks at him, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“ _All_ of them?”, Mickey challenges, Ian grins. 

“ _All_ of them,” he repeats, and Mickey hums at that. And then he looks at Ian with _that_ look again. 

“I really love you, ya know,” Mickey whispers, cupping Ian’s face, dragging his thumb across his cheekbone.

“I really love you more,” Ian smiles, Mickey beams at him.

“Thanks for….all this. For getting us to come here and for just….you….”

Mickey’s never been very good with words, not even with Ian. Ian smiles at him anyways.

“We deserve it. _You_ deserve it, your beach. Us,” Ian repeats the words that Mickey said to him on that one day, four years ago now, that seems like a distant memory. A dreaded one. 

Mickey smiles brightly at those words though. _God,_ they had no idea this was going to be their future. Ever. 

“I fucking love you so much.”

Ian pulls him by his hip, kisses him gently. It’s soft and warm, like most of their kisses are nowadays, simple. Ian presses one more kiss to his lips, whispers “fucking love you more” to him before climbing off of the bed. He goes to the window to open the blinds fully; Mickey looks his naked body up and down and wonders how Ian always managed to look so fucking fit even after he went on his meds. He was such a fucking strong human, had the most incredible heart and mind, and body, and Mickey was in love with every part of him. 

Ian turns to look at him, hands on his bare hips. Mickey’s lying on his stomach on the bed, one arm hanging off the side, the other laid under his cheek. 

And Ian smiles at him again, asks softly, “Wanna go for a walk?”

They do manage to eventually leave the room after showering and messing around a little bit more, before changing into the summer clothes they brought with them. They take a walk along the water’s edge for a little while, hand in hand, and Mickey kicks sand at Ian playfully, getting it all in his flip flops but Ian just pulls him into his side, drapes his arm over his shoulder, kisses his temple softly, murmurs a “love you” against his skin, and Mickey finds himself bringing his hand up to interlock his fingers with Ian’s that are draped over his shoulder, the light breeze blowing against their skin, forming goosebumps, and in the trees around them, the hula dancers and drumline singing and dancing in the canopy across from where they’re walking alongside other people and couples. In _public._ And it doesn’t feel scary anymore, doesn’t feel like someone’s going to jump out from behind a tree or a building and call them out for being “faggots” or “homos”, try to beat the shit out of them for loving one another; this feels like everything both of them have ever wanted. Where they take vacations as a _couple,_ as _husbands,_ where they get to make love in the confines of their hotel room in a soft bed with soft sheets, without seventeen family members walking in on them. Where they get to be _them._ Ian and Mickey. Mickey and Ian. It’s more than either of them could’ve asked for, but it feels like just enough at the same time. Mickey smiles at that, Ian kisses his cheek again as they walk some more. And Mickey’s happy. Really fucking happy. More than he’s ever been before.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this one!! I've been exploring a lot of different versions of Ian and Mickey more recently, finding ways that they like to care for and love on one another, and also just exploring my own writing as time goes on. I've been doing therapy and practicing ways to ease my mind and jitters, writing seems to be the biggest thing for me : ) 
> 
> Also this was just really fun to write hehe I hope you enjoyed it!! Leave comments, kudos, whatever!! Love you all!! <333


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